


Sherlock's Tragedy

by Inner_Devil



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AIDS, Complete, Doctor Visits, Doctors, Fluff, HIV, Love, M/M, Medication, Military, Needles, Nurses, Sadness, Secrets, drug dens, fake death, real death, sappy John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inner_Devil/pseuds/Inner_Devil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Sherlock discovered he's HIV positive. While this may have been a death sentence in previous decades, the detective goes for treatment. Though he knows it can't be cured, he decides he'll be able to manage it. But what happens when he has to disappear and his drug use starts up again? Will he still be able to manage the disease? Or will he slowly crumple into a shell of his former self?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Positive

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: http://little-miss-superwholockian.tumblr.com/post/148017900266/girlofthemirror-mrsmusicaddict

Sherlock was a teenager when it all began. He'd started using drugs to cope with the hell that was his life, frequently injecting himself with a variety of different solutions. The awkward, lanky boy wasn't well liked in school, but found himself a place where he felt he belonged: the drug dens of London. Mycroft tried to warn his brother against it, lecturing him about the dangers of drug use as well as the possibility of contracting diseases from sharing needles. But the younger Holmes didn't pay him any mind, insisting it wouldn't happen to him. Mycroft refused to just stay out of his brother's life though. Especially when the risks began to rise.

Sherlock began coming home with one man after another, sometimes going to their homes as well or sometimes just staying in the drug den. The teen had wild, passionate flings, none lasting more than a few days at a time. Mycroft hated hearing the noises of his brother's conquests nearly every night, especially knowing that he likely wasn't even using proper protection. 

"Cut it out, Fatcroft!" the teen spat when Mycroft tried talking about safe sex with him. "I'm not some kid. I know all about STDs and all that shit. Just leave me alone!"

Mycroft continued to try for years, but it didn't seem to work. Sherlock just wouldn't listen to him. But then the younger got sick. Very sick. Sherlock insisted it was just the flu or something of the sort. He'd be fine, he was sure. But Mycroft told their parents and insisted on getting him to the doctor. So roughly one week after the symptoms began, Sherlock was brought to see their family practitioner. 

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Holmes, although I wish it were under better circumstances. You haven't been in for a while and I understand you aren't feeling well," the doctor commented, as though speaking to someone far less intelligent than Sherlock, which frustrated the teen beyond belief.

"It's just the flu. My brother needs to keep his fat nose out of my business," the brunet grumbled angrily. 

"Well, even still, it's good to check. Now, Mycroft tells me some of your medical records need to be updated. Specifically the parts regarding your sexual activity and drug usage. Now, I'll need you to be honest so I can treat you to the best of my abilities."

Sherlock rattled off a list of drugs he'd taken since the last time he'd been here, rolling his eyes as though he were informing the other that he'd had pancakes for breakfast. "I have sex approximately twenty days each month, with multiple different men. No, I don't know their sexual histories nor do I know if they had any STDs. Sometimes I use condoms, sometimes I don't. It feels so much better bareback. Is that all?"

The doctor raised a brow, jotting everything down. "We'll need to perform a few tests just to make sure it's nothing more serious than the flu. And we'd like to make sure you don't have any STDs. Just to make sure you're healthy."

Sherlock grumbled under his breath the entire time, but allowed the doctor to perform any tests necessary. He was checked for every STD under the sun and his symptoms were compared with flu symptoms. Most everything matched up. The fever, chills, night sweats, rash, muscle aches, sore throat, and fatigue all matched up. And the length of time was still within the regular window for a flu.

"There's just one more test we want to do," the doctor informed him. "Because you've been so sexually active lately and you've been sharing needles, we want to test for HIV. Right now, it does look like just the flu. But we want to rule out anything really harmful."

The younger Holmes begrudgingly agreed and allowed more blood to be drawn so they could test for HIV. He was allowed to leave after that, told that they'd call if anything was odd in his test results. Sherlock was positive there wouldn't be anything wrong. It was just the flu, right? At least, that's what everyone thought. They didn't get the real news until about a week later when Sherlock still hadn't gotten over what they thought was the flu.

"You can't be serious," Mrs. Holmes murmured, on the phone with the doctor. "It can't be..... No, no, William would never do something like that. I mean, I know he's been with a few partners lately but...... you really think it's that serious? Okay..... Okay, I'll tell him. Thank you, doctor." She hung up before taking a deep breath and going to Sherlock's room.

"William? We need to talk about something," she told him, coming in.

"It's Sherlock. You know I hate being called William," Sherlock grumbled. "What is it? I feel like shit and you know I don't want visitors."

"The doctor called and.......there's some bad news," Mrs. Holmes told him softly. "The test results for HIV? They came back......and they're positive. You're HIV positive."

Sherlock was stunned. "There must be some mistake. I can't be. This is just a flu," he argued. 

"No, it isn't. They checked everything and they need you to come back. We've scheduled another appointment to start treatment and prevent it from progressing further," she told him. "I'm so sorry, baby. You know I'd do anything to take this away from you, but there's nothing I can do. We have to get treatment right away. And you know it's not something they can cure. They'll be able to keep it in check if you take the medication they give you. But you'll have this forever. You need to be careful."

Sherlock was too shocked to respond with his usual quips, silently staring ahead. HIV. Human Immunodeficiency Virus. Before it would've been considered a death sentence. But at least now he had a chance. But there needed to be major changes.


	2. Treatment and Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done as much research as I can on HIV and its treatment for this, but please let me know if I missed something or got something wrong!

Within a week, Sherlock was back with the doctor talking about treatment options. It turned out that the symptoms he'd been experiencing weren't the flu but seroconversion, the time when HIV antibodies are detectable and developing. This meant that he had to have had HIV for at least a week, possibly even three weeks now. But it also meant that they had to get started on treatment as soon as they could. His symptoms should begin to resolve themselves soon, other than the fact that his lymph nodes had become swollen over the past week.

"You should be all right as long as you stay on the regimen we put you on," Sherlock was told over and over again. "You'll need to take pills every day and come in every three to six months so we can make sure it doesn't get worse and everything is under control. What we're going to do is antiretroviral therapy or ART. Now, this isn't going to cure it or anything of the sort. What is does is prevent HIV from multiplying. This will help you live a longer, healthier life and it'll lower the risk that you'll transmit this to someone else. Now ART involves a combination of drugs to handle the HIV and you'll have to take them exactly as prescribed. No skipping doses or anything of the sort. As long as you do what we tell you, you should be able to stay in excellent health. But right now, you need to be abstinent. You're highly infectious at this stage and anyone you have sex with or share needles with is at risk for becoming infected. You need to be extremely careful while we start your HIV regimen and the medication starts to take effect. Give it time and if your symptoms don't begin to slow and stop soon, come back and see us."

They went over different possible regimens and the side effects for each one, as well as Sherlock's medical history to see which one would be the best fit for him. In the end, it was decided he'd need to take two pills every day and come in for regular check ups, but should otherwise be fine. Once the drugs kicked in properly, he'd be able to have sex as long as he used a condom. But that didn't matter to Sherlock. He now knew the terror of being told he was positive for HIV. He felt such a mix of emotions: fear for his future, hatred for the men who'd done this to him, as well as anger at the other people as well as himself. He knew it was his fault. But he subconsciously made his decision. He needed to cut himself off from everyone as best he could so he wouldn't pass this on to anyone else or let anyone else know that he had it.

***Two Months Later***

"You aren't going out tonight? I thought there was a party or something of the sort that you wanted to attend," Mycroft commented one evening. Ever since his diagnosis, Sherlock hadn't been himself. He went to school and home and that was it. No more parties, no more wild sex, no more injected drugs. Not that Mycroft was complaining, but he just seemed like he was letting this get to him.

"No, I don't want to go. I'm working on something here," Sherlock muttered. All his life he'd loved experimenting, but now he was really pouring himself into it. It was almost like he was trying to find a cure for HIV, though he wouldn't tell anyone what he was really working on. He didn't go out anymore and didn't have any friends. He was completely cut off from anyone else and it worried Mycroft. After a while, the elder Holmes decided to sign him up for a few extracurriculars.

"You signed me up for tutoring?!" Sherlock snapped when he found out. "I don't need to go see a tutor."

"You won't be. You're going to be tutoring other students who need some help," Mycroft told him calmly. "There's no way out of it, Sherlock. You're going. End of story."

As much as Sherlock complained about having to tutor "morons", he did still go. He ended up tutoring one of his classmates, John Watson, in chemistry. The blond, tan Adonis was breathtakingly gorgeous and got plenty of girls. But as much as Sherlock appreciated his looks, he tried his best to remain unattached. He couldn't risk falling for the other teen only to find out he's straight. Or fall for him and end up in bed together only for John to contract HIV from him. He couldn't do that. He had to keep his cool demeanor. 

As the tutoring continued, the pair began to get to know one another. They became good friends, the only friend Sherlock ever had. Through any bullying or other issues, John was always there for Sherlock. That is, until the fateful day came: John's eighteenth birthday. That was the day he was being shipped off to join the military. And as excited as he was to finally get to live out what he'd always dreamed of, he hated leaving his best friend behind. But he knew Sherlock would never survive the military.

"I'll write all the time. Promise. And you write me too, okay?" John told his friend before he left.

"I will," Sherlock agreed, then took a deep breath. "I suppose this is our goodbye then."

The pair hugged and John boarded his flight to leave. Sherlock couldn't believe he was losing the one person he'd been able to connect with. He watched John's plane leave the airport and sighed heavily as he simply stood by the window for a while.

"Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock. I tried to tell you," Mycroft told him from behind. 

"No you didn't! If it hadn't been for you, John and I never would've met. I'd still be working on experiments in my bedroom!" Sherlock snapped as he spun around.

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, I got you out of the house for a reason. It makes it easier for you to recover more quickly. I couldn't allow you to fall into a depression. But I warned you before you started tutoring not to get attached to any of your pupils. And you did just that," he hummed.

Sherlock fell silent for a while, glancing out the window. He shouldn't have gotten attached. After all, what would John think of him really? What would Sherlock's best friend in the world think if he knew about Sherlock's diagnosis? Sherlock still hadn't even come to terms with it himself. How could he expect anyone else to understand? He had to distance himself again and prevent this from ever happening again.


	3. Into the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Series 1 and Series 2 of BBC Sherlock  
> References to The Great Game and The Reichenbach Fall

While John was gone, he kept his promise of writing letters as often as possible. But with no reply after a while, John gave up on trying to contact his friend and kept his focus on the military. That is, until he got shot.

Sherlock had remained in London over the years, growing taller and lankier by the day. He kept in good health though as he stuck to his HIV regimen. He never missed a dose and made sure to distance himself as much as possible. He'd developed a bond with one of the Yard officers who gave him cases as well: Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. The silver haired man had met Mycroft Holmes first, who originally offered him money to spy on his brother. Greg refused, but still watched over both Holmes boys. Mycroft seemed to neglect himself in his attempts to watch over his brother. 

Molly also helped to take care of Sherlock, administering regular drug tests to make sure he wasn't using again. At this point, Sherlock had been clean for a few months. He was trying hard to quit. But even still, he was careful never to share needles. He cleaned everything meticulously before he used it and didn't allow anyone else's bodily fluids to mix with his own. He never donated blood due to his HIV positivity and made sure never to miss a dose of his medication. Everyone around the brilliant detective helped take care of him, even though only his family and doctors knew about his diagnosis.

But then the day came that Sherlock didn't have a plan for: John's return home. His longtime friend was coming home finally and Sherlock hadn't spoken to him in years. He didn't even know what had happened to lead to John's return. All he knew was that John was back. So he knew just what to do. Knowing about John's family, he knew the man likely had no where to stay. So he made a comment to Mike Stamford, a friend of John's, that he wanted a flatmate. He knew the message would get to John.

Sure enough he was soon going to see a flat with his friend. They had plenty of catching up to do, but it took John a while to remember who Sherlock was. He looked so different from when he was a teenager, after all. But once John did realize it, the two were soon chatting like old mates once again. Although John really wanted to know why Sherlock didn't send him letters. Sherlock had to insist that it was for a good reason and come up with an excuse. John couldn't know he'd stopped because he couldn't risk getting too close only to lose his best friend due to being HIV positive.

The pair ended up moving in together and were soon taking cases together, running around London chasing after criminals no matter what time of day or night it was. John never found out about his diagnosis. Sherlock took his medication without fail and went to see his doctor every six months. It was fairly simple to hide from his flatmate. They stayed in separate bedrooms and John never came into his. Sherlock kept the medication in his bedside table though, so John would have to search a bit for them. He scheduled appointments when he knew John would be at work or on a date. Everything went just as planned.

But as the cases came quicker and bigger and they had less time apart, things began to become more difficult. Sherlock had delayed some dosages time and again when they were out, but never failed to take them. Then came the pool.

"And likely my answer has crossed yours," Sherlock's baritone voice hummed as he pointed the gun at Moriarty. He was prepared to die now to save his best friend. But it seemed someone had other plans as the villain seemed to receive a better option over the phone and soon left them alone. John and Sherlock returned home, knowing there was going to be more. But neither of them could know how this one man would cause things to snowball.

Sherlock continued trying to defeat Moriarty, taking it case by case. He ended up in jail at times, in trouble plenty of times. But soon his reputation was ruined. Everyone was convinced he'd faked it all. Even John. His entire world was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it. Except....

"Just kill yourself. It's a lot easier," Moriarty insisted as they sat on the rooftop of Bart's. Sherlock knew it was the only way he could fix this. He had to jump. He had to fake his own death to save the people he cared for. He had to do this. And so he jumped. Moriarty was dead and, as far as the rest of the world knew, so was Sherlock Holmes. 


	4. Hiding, Returning, Suffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts off in the years between Series 2 and Series 3, then goes into Series 3

Sherlock went into hiding for years after the fall. He constantly watched from the shadows, fighting the urge to reveal himself as he saw John break down and turn to alcohol for relief. But he had to stay in hiding and dismantle Moriarty's web. The only trouble, really, was that he had no access to his medication for HIV. He couldn't continue his regimen because everyone thought he was dead. Anyone trying to get medication for him would seem too odd, so he had to live those two years without any sort of medication. For a short while, Sherlock almost seemed to be perfectly fine without his medication. But then he got sick.

All of Sherlock's symptoms returned and his HIV worsened. His lymph nodes became swollen and he was much weaker. He was nauseous, achy, and had a fever. But this time, he didn't have his medication there to help. He had to push through on his own. When he was taken captive in Serbia though, it made things 100 times worse. Enduring the torture was bad enough. But then there was the disease. They didn't treat any of his wounds and he often got terrible infections and seeping injuries before they scarred. It was enough to make anyone sick. But Sherlock's immune system was far weaker than it should've been without his medication and he became very sick very fast. It didn't take long before he couldn't even respond if he wanted to. He was limp as they left him chained, covered in sweat and blood, as well as spit from the men who'd been trying to get information from him. He simply couldn't continue like this without medical attention.

Finally Mycroft rescued him and he was returned to Baker Street. He was given proper medical attention for all of his wounds and Mycroft made sure he had his medication once more. But Sherlock had been through so much, he wasn't even sure he could recover from illness and injury on its own, much less with HIV. He got information about John and went to surprise him, knowing the other would be ecstatic that he'd returned. He found John having dinner with a woman, something Sherlock was sure wouldn't last long. The surprise would surely be welcome.

What he wasn't expecting was to be attacked not once, but three times. He sustained multiple injuries, adding to the ones he already have. It wasn't very hard to injure him though, as he was weak and ill.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me, Sherlock! You let me think you were dead!" John snapped as they returned to Baker Street. "All I needed was one word..... Just one word, Sherlock. To let me know you were okay. But you couldn't even give me that."

"No, I couldn't. I had to let you think that. Otherwise, you would've given something away and I never would've been able to dismantle Moriarty's web. This s what had to be done," Sherlock insisted softly.

Then they began talking about Mary. Sherlock knew there was something off about her. But this was the first woman since The Woman that he'd had any difficulty reading. And at least this one didn't try to alarm him with so many sexual innuendos and such. Ever since he'd first been diagnosed with HIV, sex was a bit of a touchy topic for him. He could get plenty of information from Mary, but nothing he wanted. Simple things: Bakes own bread, cat lover, things of that nature. But there was something about her that screamed liar to the detective. He just couldn't figure out what. So he and John took her case, so to speak. Even with Sherlock's deteriorating health, he was able to help figure out exactly who Mary really was. She'd been lying the entire time and he was certain there was more to it. But he was too exhausted and ill to push any farther and passed out in bed for the night. 

The wedding was to continue though, and Sherlock was the best man. Great. Another time he'd have to pretend that everything was all right. And this time in front of even more people. He needed to be there for his friend though, on the happiest day of John's life. But it certainly wouldn't be the best day of Sherlock's life. He attended the wedding though and managed to pass himself off as healthy. The ceremony wasn't terrible, though he hated the reception. Especially the phone call of his brother.

"Oh, by the way, Sherlock, do you remember Redbeard?" Mycroft hummed over the phone.

"Yes, of course I do," Sherlock muttered, suddenly stiffening.

Redbeard had been his childhood dog. When Sherlock was diagnosed with HIV, his parents took Redbeard for special training so he could remind Sherlock to take his medication and be there to help with his mental health. Redbeard had been his rock through everything and had taken care of Sherlock when no one else would or could. That dog had been his best friend for years, even closer to Sherlock than John had been or ever would be. But he'd been struck by a car one afternoon while walking with Sherlock on the side of the road. Redbeard had saved Sherlock, but at the cost of his own life. There were so many injuries and Redbeard was such an old dog at that point, they had no choice but to have him put down. That crushed Sherlock beyond belief and reinforced his decision to cut himself off from everyone. Why would Mycroft bring this up now? Reminding him of his HIV? Of his loss? Not to have sex with anyone? No problem. 

Sherlock couldn't stay long after that. He gave his speech, solved a murder, and attended the reception just long enough to play the first waltz for John and Mary. Oh, and of course tell them they were expecting a child and congratulating them.But seeing them dance together and noticing that no one seemed to even notice him or want him there, he decided to leave. Moriarty's words hummed in the back of his head:  _I'll burn the heart out of you._ John was his heart and it certainly seemed burned. Any connections he had were near severed at this point. But while everyone else was dancing and having a good time, no one noticed the detective was gone. No one knew he'd found his way to a drug den and was getting high just like old times. But at this point, not even Sherlock knew just yet that his viral load was spiking and his T cells plummeting. And this was bad news for everyone, even if they didn't know it.


	5. Culverton and Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sherly! Sorry, but I've gotta do it!  
> We come to an end in Series 3 and delve into Series 4!   
> (The trailer just came out recently as I write this)

Sherlock was back on drugs again and not taking his medication. There was nothing left for him anymore, so why should he bother trying to keep himself alive any longer than absolutely necessary. He stayed in the drug den, content to lie there on his filthy mattress and shoot up with whatever he could buy. He didn't even care what cocktail of drugs hey gave him, as long as he could get high. That is, until John found him, an absolute mess who hardly resembled even a shell of his former self. He insisted he was just undercover, but John didn't buy it for a second. He couldn't possibly explain that his weakness was due to the HIV that was now slowly progressing to AIDS. He just had to let John think it was just the drugs.

Of course no one took this news well at all. Molly slapped him, John lectured him, even Mary seemed upset about it all. But Sherlock was returned home under John's supervision. He checked the flat for drugs and, finding nothing, allowed Sherlock some privacy. He didn't return for a week or two and by then Sherlock was disguising his illness as best he could. He still needed frequent breaks when he couldn't keep his facade any longer, but managed to keep even his fake girlfriend Janine from really finding out.

But as they continued taking cases together, Sherlock couldn't hide it for much longer. He knew that. Without his medication, he was doing horribly and the disease was progressing even further. When he was finally shot by Mary, it almost came as a relief. Of course his Mind Palace helped keep him from dying. But he still ended up in the hospital. He never let on how bad it was though. He looked terrible externally. But internally, he was even worse. His platelet count was way down, allowing internal bleeds much more easily. And he seemed to experience them frequently as he slowly recovered. 

Sherlock did his best to keep it hidden as much as possible. But he really wasn't doing as well as he thought he was. As well as he'd hoped he was. And he knew it would only be a matter of time before his doctor friend would notice. John wasn't an idiot. He'd find out Sherlock had HIV and there was no way to stop it now. So Sherlock arranged a way to tell him before he got too much worse. He insisted John meet him at Scotland Yard under the ruse of a new case.

"All right so what's going on this time?" John asked as he began walking with Sherlock. He noticed right off that something was wrong though. "Sherlock? There.... there isn't a case, is there? What's wrong?" 

"John," Sherlock sighed, staring at the ground. "There's something you should know. There was a diagnosis I was given years ago, but I didn't want to tell you. I...."

Sherlock didn't even have a chance to finish his sentence as a man bumped into him and injected him with a mix of viruses before rushing off again. They didn't know it was Culverton Smith who'd injected him. Sherlock simply dropped then and there. 

"Sherlock!" John cried out, rushing to help his friend. He called an ambulance, not even thinking about what the diagnosis Sherlock had mentioned could be. All he knew was that his friend needed help.

An ambulance arrived as quickly as possible, bringing Sherlock to the nearest hospital for treatment. They gave him everything they could, but Sherlock's immune system was weak and his viral load was poorly controlled at this point. Any infection could potentially be deadly for him. When Sherlock came to, he glanced around and took in everything he could. Hospital, tubes, he'd been brought in for treatment clearly. But for what? As he looked around, he noticed something. His hands. There was something wrong with his hands. They were......bumpy. There were tumors on his hands! This wasn't supposed to happen. Sherlock knew exactly what this meant. These raised nodules were Karposi sarcoma, the first visual indicator of HIV/AIDS. John would notice for sure if he saw, Sherlock had to get out of here and fast.

The detective stripped out of his hospital gown and removed the tubes they'd attached to him, putting his regular clothes back on. He dressed in a simple button down shirt and his black trousers with his usual Belstaff coat and a pair of shoes. Darting out of his room, he snuck down hallway after hallway in an attempt to escape. But then he saw something that absolutely shocked him: Nurses coming down the hall wheeling a metal table in the middle of them. Each nurse had a mask over their mouth and marched together. It seemed plausible that they would have syringes with sedatives as well, just in case the patient they were coming for put up a fight. This sight really wasn't odd in a hospital, but Sherlock began to hyperventilate. He couldn't see anything but these people coming towards him and his mind began to race.

Redbeard. Redbeard was put down just like this. The vet by the cold metal table, injecting the needle and slowly ending the life of Sherlock's very best friend. Sherlock was sent back to that day all over again and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't save his friend. And now he couldn't even save himself.

The detective didn't even notice as the nurses and table passed right by him and John appeared instead, having come to visit him. Sherlock's hands were over his mouth though, exposing the raised areas on his hands. John furrowed his brow as he noticed, coming closer and taking one of Sherlock's hands.

"Sherlock.....what are these?" he murmured, running his finger over them. "This is what you were trying to tell me back there, isn't it? About the diagnosis...... You were diagnosed with HIV, weren't you?"

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment before registering everything. He met John's eyes and sighed softly before nodding. "I didn't want to tell you back then. I couldn't risk losing you. I--"

"Losing me?" John chuckled incredulously. "Why would you lose me? Sherlock, we were best friends. And.......I love you. I fell for you ages ago."

"Me?" Sherlock murmured. "But you.....What about Mary?"

John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "We're, uh.....Well, things aren't all that great. I think we're going to get a divorce. But right now, we're separated," he admitted.

"I.......I fell for you years ago," Sherlock revealed with a little chuckle. "I was too worried to tell you. I'd already been diagnosed by the time I realized how I felt and.... Well, I didn't want to risk infecting you too. That's why I tried to keep you at a distance after a while."

The pair couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all was. But at least now, they were together. John made Sherlock return to the hospital bed, reattaching all of the tubes and putting him back in his hospital gown. The doctors came in to check on him and John stayed the entire time, holding Sherlock's hand and making sure to take note of everything they said. He wasn't going to let Sherlock ignore any of their advice or directions.


	6. Doctor John and Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, end of the road. Thanks for the ideas and support, everyone!

Sherlock remained in the hospital for a while to receive treatment. The HIV had, unfortunately, progressed to AIDS by this point though, the viruses in his weakened immune system combined with his poorly managed viral load having quickened the progression. There was still hope though. As terrible as he felt, Sherlock could still bounce back. He was put back on a regimen of medications to lower his viral load and keep it lowered. John, of course, was there through everything to make sure Sherlock didn't skip a single part of his new regimen.

Once the detective was released from the hospital, John caught a cab for them and set up all his medications on top of Sherlock's bedside table. He went over the instructions for each medication and made sure to jot them down in simple terms just in case, though neither of them needed it. He also started a current list of all medications Sherlock was on, just in case he had to go to the hospital at any point and they needed to know what he was on.

The two men started a new relationship with one another, one with more romance as well as sex. Sherlock was, of course, very careful so that he wouldn't infect John. He always used a condom and kept himself clean. John got himself checked regularly for HIV as well, just to be safe. John topped more often than not, which decreased the likelihood of him contracting the disease. And he talked to his doctor and was put on pre-exposure prophylaxis. He took one pill per day, which consisted of two medications in one pill. This helped prevent contraction even further. 

Sherlock took precautions as well. He stayed on his AIDS regimen and followed his doctor's advice to the letter. During sex, he used condoms every time and always made sure they were on properly. He allowed John to top, choosing oral sex more often when Sherlock wanted more control so it was less risky. Of course, even Sherlock occasionally slipped up every once in a while. 

"Where do you think you're going?" John muttered one morning. Sherlock had gotten out of bed and was headed towards the bedroom door. 

"Out on a case. Lestrade texted and he's got a quadruple homicide. I can't miss this," the detective insisted. 

"You're not going anywhere until you take your meds, Sherl. You know that," the doctor scolded.

Sherlock begrudgingly agreed, taking his medication. He hated doing anything that would keep him away from cases any longer than absolutely necessary, but he knew the drugs would control his viral load and he needed that. John smiled, kissing Sherlock's cheek lovingly before letting him go on the case.

Of course, there were also side effects to having had HIV/AIDS for so long and from the medication. Sherlock was at a higher risk for developing weak and brittle bones, an increase in fat levels in his blood, and changes in how his body used and stored fat. He also had to manage his diet a bit better, since his medication made him nauseous. It also made him fatigued and gave him vertigo, headaches, and muscle pains.

"Hey, love. How're you feeling today?" John hummed one afternoon as he made them tea. When he didn't get a response, the blond frowned and came into the sitting room where he found Sherlock clutching his stomach as he curled up on the sofa.

"Sherlock!" John called, rushing over. "Hey, it's all right. Medication, yeah?" he hummed softly, trying to soothe the other. He got a bucket and set it by Sherlock's head, then got a cool cloth and placed it against his forehead. "There we are. Let's stick to liquids for right now and let this run its course. It won't last too long. And I'll be right here the whole time."

It wasn't just vomit John had to deal with and help Sherlock through. Every day, John checked his partner's physical health as well as mental health as best he could. He checked Sherlock's bone density and structure to make sure he wasn't having any trouble there, then checked his weight and how much fat seemed to be in each area of his body. Sometimes he gained weight in his stomach and other areas while he lost weight in areas such as his face. John worked with him to maintain a healthy diet and help him through even the worst days of his treatment. They were careful to keep John from getting HIV and managed to live their lives as they usually did. Sherlock continued taking cases and, with his new regimen, managed to keep himself in good health. They managed to live fairly normal lives, despite the fact that just years before, HIV/AIDS would've been considered a death sentence. Sherlock was happy, even with this disease. Because he had John. And that was all the mattered to him.


End file.
